Let us begin with a question: is there—or isn’t there—a real distance between us, who call ourselves Christians and believers in the God of Jesus, and those to whom we want to proclaim and propose the message of Christ?

Should we realistically admit the existence of a deep fracture—a radical gap—between us (the “near”) and them (the “far”)? Unfortunately, I am not referring to the inevitable difference in thinking and behavior Saint Paul mentions in the letter to the Colossians—between those who live the new life and those who still await the announcement. The fracture I mean wears the face of mistrust and indifference.

Our people show growing suspicion toward clergy and toward those who attend church. Hostile propaganda draws strength from scandals within our communities: pedophilia is the most cruel (here in Romania as in Italy, including in Baia Mare), but it is not the only one. Aversion to the Church as an institution and to its representatives often returns to the themes of money and power.

What happened? Has the Gospel lost its appeal? Has the event of Jesus of Nazareth become obsolete? Or must we bitterly admit that we have drifted away from the truth of the Gospel, living a religion too often shaped by compromises and sentimentalism?

Have we become “Sunday Christians”—practicing, yet scarcely involved in the life of the community? Parish work has changed; after Vatican II, the parish should no longer be self-referential and bureaucratic, but dynamic and missionary. It must go out of itself and into a wider territory—pastoring the “open fields” rather than the “enclosure.”

My parish is where people suffer, hope, rejoice, and die; where the pain of unemployment cries out; where the many places of human solitude push toward despair. If it is a service station, it is only long enough to regain strength and then continue the journey. Ministry happens “along the roads,” not in sacristies and offices.

The Risen One begins His pastoral work on the road, meeting two discouraged disciples with “closed eyes,” without hope. The episode shows how even disciples can move away from the Paschal mystery because of disappointment when worldly expectations collapse.

A certain worldliness has swept over us all. At the same time, we are called to conversion on the great themes of poverty, obedience, and the purity of life. My small work is to bring help and support: a parcel of God’s mercy that becomes a concrete chance for change—for bishops, priests, consecrated persons, and every lay faithful—to bear witness to Jesus poor among the poor.

The village we head toward is “distant.” The distance is not only geographical; it is existential, moral, spiritual, and ultimately human. To move away from the Gospel is, in fact, to dehumanize life. Only in Christ do we rediscover the high measure of human beauty. Distance from Christ opens the way to harshness and barbarity.

Evangelization today cannot ignore this shared drift in the illusory search for meaning and truth that only “Christ, the Son of the living God” can satisfy. Often “meaning and truth” are replaced by “pleasure and relaxation.” Everything remains in transition; societies have become “liquid,” where little appears stable or lasting. Yet the Gospel speaks of relationships lived in the “forever” of Eucharistic love.

In this situation, Pope Francis asks us to “go out”: to go out of ourselves toward community, and to go out as a community toward the peripheries. Words alone are not enough. A new preaching is not merely an updated vocabulary, but renewed witness. Modern people, saturated with speeches, easily grow tired of words—so they need witnesses.

Therefore we need a new preaching—made, if necessary, also with words—that once again reveals to the world the truth about God and the human person. A preaching that shows the beauty of God’s humanity in Jesus Christ and heals that “connected solitude” spreading within narcissistic and consumerist societies.

This is why we need not only “sentinels,” but above all “explorers of mercy”: people who cross the boundaries of comfort and interest to inhabit the peripheries of the poor, the marginalized, supporting concrete paths of liberation—from hunger, exploitation, illness, isolation, drugs, violence, abuse.

Let us set out. If we take even a few steps, help will come from God. He will come close and walk with us, setting hearts on fire through His Word and warming them through His love.

Stand up and walk. If you make the journey, you will see you are not alone.

— Rino Senatore

On the road to a distant village